


Game Night

by strawberryfinn



Category: One Direction (Band), X Factor RPF
Genre: Crack, Crack Pairing, Fivesome, Innuendo, M/M, Male Slash, Multi, Slash, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryfinn/pseuds/strawberryfinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't pay Paul enough for this job. Two thumbs up for innuendo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game Night

Watching five overgrown, teenage boys is a lot of work.  
  
Sure, Paul Higgins doesn't mind it. He likes the boys of One Direction—they're pretty good lads for the most part. They pull pranks often (thankfully more on each other than on him), but when it comes down to it, they're all good-hearted and bright.  
  
That still doesn't prepare him for that night.  
  
Poor, unassuming Paul is walking around, making rounds of the hotel floor to check for crazed fans. He checks the vents just to be safe. (The last hotel had been infiltrated by a delusional fangirl who was convinced that her dreams of Harry making sweet, beautiful love to her were real and that she had to meet him so he would realize how hopelessly in love with her he was. She proceeded to tell Paul in gross, in-depth detail about her erotic experiences with said Mr. Styles, much to Paul's discomfort. When they finally got rid of her, Paul went to the bar and poured himself a drink. And another. And another).  
  
Needless to say, Paul is relieved when there are no overzealous fans hiding in the vents.  
  
That's when he makes his way over to Harry and Louis's room. He hears laughs and figures the two that the fans have lovingly dubbed Larry Stylinson are in the room, and smiles, shaking his head with quiet adoration. The boys are all good lads—all five of them; he's never met a closer bunch, and he thinks his job isn't half bad.  
  
Well that's what he figures until he hears this.  
  
Louis's characteristic, accented, bossy voice breaks through the chuckles.  
“Oh God, it's _huge,_ Hazza.”  
  
Paul cocks his head curiously, inching closer to the door. He doesn't quite know what to make of that. But because he is a grown man with sexual impulses and hormones, he blanches at the thought of Louis and Harry...  
  
He writes it off to paranoia. Because... Harry and Louis are a strange lot, after all, so Louis could be talking about Harry's... shoe size, right?  
  
“Louis, take it off, already,” comes Harry's impatient voice. “I can't wait much longer—stop teasing me!”  
  
There's the sound of something hitting the ground, and the first thought that jumps into Paul's head is pants. But it can't be pants, right? Paul thinks to himself that he's gone crazy. There must be something in this hotel. Its air is too perfumed. It's making him think crazy thoughts.  
  
“Oi! Open it up, Zayn! I can't wait to play with you!” Niall's jubilant tone breaks through, and Paul blanches. Because Harry and Louis together in one room saying what sounds like some sexual things is one thing... but Niall is in there too? What is this? And _Zayn?_  
  
Paul's heart is hammering wildly in his chest, and he feels the need to sit down. But there's no chair in the hallway, so he collapses to the floor instead, wrapping his arms around his knees and pulling his legs close to his chest.  
  
“Don't be so impatient, Niall. These things are better when you wait for them. The foreplay is half the fun.” And... that's definitely Liam. Paul pales from where he's sitting on the floor in the hallway.  
  
“Let's get started, Nialler!” Zayn's unmistakable voice sounds through the hotel door. “I'm glad you decided to do this with me.”  
  
“I've never done this before,” comes Niall's uneasy reply. “Are you sure it'll be alright?”  
  
“It's tons of fun,” Liam says nonchalantly, almost expertly. “You just have to trust us, Nialler. It might feel funny and hurt a bit, but it's an awfully good workout. You've just got to count on Zayn to let you have a good time.”  
  
 _No. No. No._ Liam did not just say that, Paul wills himself to believe. His mind scrabbles for ideas of what the boys could be doing, but he keeps drawing up blanks.  
  
“Let's see how quickly you and I can get this done, Lou,” comes Harry's reply, and Paul's mind starts racing, because that can't be what Harry just said.  
  
“Haz, are you sure it goes there?” Louis's voice is back, and Paul pales. Because... the boys could be... plugging something into an electric socket. Working the telly? It's not what it sounds like—it's not, it _can't_ be...  
  
“Yes, I'm sure, Lou,” Harry answers in that slow, characteristic way of his. “It goes in this hole, I'm pretty sure.”  
  
“Harry,” Louis whines in protest, “it doesn't go there! It's not going to fit!”  
  
 _No!_ Paul wants to scream. _No, no, no! Don't do it._ (A horrified part of him is also wondering how many holes Louis can have).  
  
“Niall, do you want to go first?” Liam asks, his voice slightly muffled.  
  
“No, let Zayn show me what to do. I've never done this before,” Niall answers, his Irish accent distinct.  
  
“Come on Nialler, just get down here with me,” Zayn quips, and Paul's face pales, draining of blood. Is that... something _crinkling_ he hears? No, he must just be imagining it. There's no way...  
  
“Harry, I _told_ you that was the wrong hole! It doesn't fit!” Louis sounds angry and then there's Harry's apologetic, “Lou, I'm sorry. I just thought it went there.”  
  
Paul wants to burst in. He wants to scream, _No, don't do this boys! You're not gay! Don't do this here! I'm right outside! Don't do this period! Don't do this in front of one another, you voyeurs!_ He would yell it, too, if he wasn't frozen in fear, plastered to the wall in front of the hotel door.  
  
And then there's a pained cry that sounds like Niall. Oh God. Niall.  
  
“Zayn, it hurts.” Paul can picture him, all innocent pale face and blue eyes and blonde hair.  
  
“It'll be okay, Nialler, you've just got to breathe through it, okay? Just hold on a second.” Zayn's voice doesn't sound as steady as it should be.  
  
“Ni, you're doing great.” Liam's voice is more reassuring. “You're a natural at this, Nialler—can't believe you've never done this before.”  
  
All oxygen leaves Paul's lungs at what he hears next. Nothing can prepare him for what comes next.  
  
“Zayn, hurry up! Go faster!” Niall whines impatiently. “Zayn! Faster! I can't be in this position for much longer!”  
  
“Niall, calm down! It takes me awhile to get adjusted.” Zayn sounds apologetic.  
  
Paul thinks he might kill Zayn Malik. He might beat the crap out of him. Who does he think he is, deflowering the innocent, blonde leprechaun like that? (Oh God, Paul's just admitted his deepest fears of what's going on. Oh no. Oh no).  
  
“Lou, we're almost done,” Haz crows triumphantly. “See I told you we wouldn't last long.”  
  
“Thank God, Haz, I didn't know if I had it in me,” Louis replies amiably. Paul thinks Louis might be panting.  
  
“Liam!” Niall orders, “Come down and join us! You don't just get to do all the watching.” (Paul tries to convince himself that Niall's breathy, uneven voice is due to something else... maybe he _ate_ too much? Okay, now he's just grasping at straws... he has no explanation for any of this).  
  
“No, I have quite a good view here,” Liam manages, his voice hitched. “You and Zayn put on a pretty good show.”  
  
And then there's the thud of bodies against the floor. Paul's pretty sure that's Niall squealing.  
  
“You're so big, Zayn,” Niall grumbles crossly, and Paul hears Zayn laugh apologetically.  
  
“Sorry, Nialler,” Zayn says affectionately, “but you had fun, right?”  
  
“Yeah, it was great,” Niall admits. “Can we do it again, sometime?”  
  
“Ni, I think you've had enough for tonight,” comes Liam's shaky voice. “It's awfully fun, but it can be kind of painful.”  
  
“I'll be fine, just bloody sweaty now,” Niall sniffs, and Paul blanches from where he's rocking back and forth in fetal position outside of the door.  
  
And then there's a scuffle, and Paul scrambles to his feet, ready to run shrieking away from the hotel room, not sure if he can ever look at any of the boys in the eyes again. Because the thought of seeing the boys after their... _sexcapades_ is too much for him to handle, and he doesn't know if he's man enough to handle this.  
  
But the door of the hotel room swings open, and there's Louis, looking at him with a jubilant, wide smile, feathered hair and ocean eyes and all.  
  
“Paul!” says Louis, opening the hotel room wide. “It's Game Night! Wanna play?”  
  
Paul peeks in curiously, heart thudding rapidly in his chest, because what kind of kinky sex games are the boys playing?  
  
He spies Harry, sitting triumphantly in front of a finished puzzle of two kittens. “Paul, look! Lou and I finished it all by ourselves! It's _fifty_ pieces!”  
  
In the other corner, Zayn is folding up a Twister set while Liam spins the dial playfully, earning a rueful look from Niall.  
  
“I... I...” manages Paul, stammering like an idiot.  
  
He forces his legs to move, and without managing to form a coherent sentence, Paul stumbles off.  
  
He needs a drink.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a crack!fic. Poor Paul.


End file.
